Remember Me
by Shiro Mizuki
Summary: He remembered the last time they saw each other, last time their hands touched in a sweet caress, the last time he heard that smooth deep voice. The tall stature,the long arms that could easily embrace him and the large hands that smoothed his hair when it was ruffled. He wanted to see him again, but could he if he didn't remember his name? Slight crossover with SSB MarthxIke


Warning: OOC maybe? I've done some research and I'm playing Shadow Dragon right now, but not entirely sure on all the characters personalities, wiki can only tell you so much... Enjoy my first story! ~Shiro Mizuki

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Chapter 1: Whispered Names

He remembered the last time they saw each other, last time their hands touched in a sweet caress, the last time he heard that smooth deep voice. The question did not lie in what had happened the last time they laid teary eyes on each other, but in the span of time it had been since then. For all his worth he couldn't pin down how many years it had been. Had it been years, or maybe months, could it have been only weeks ago? Another issue presented itself. The name of this person. He could bring up a blurry image in his mind. The tall stature was a prominent feature, the long arms that could easily embrace him, the large hands that smoothed his hair whenever it was ruffled, but the striking blue eyes were the only clear thing in his mind. They astounded him, that such eyes could convey so many emotions. The anger they held whenever he had gotten hurt and the other rushed to defend him. The warm softness they held that melted his heart every time he woke up in the arms of the other. The intensity those deep blue eyes conveyed every time he rose his sword into the air. Those eyes had held fire. It was a fire that could be warm and comforting or dangerous and ferocious.

He had loved this person with the very core of his being and yet their name escaped him. It felt as if it was on the tip of his tongue and every time he went to utter the name it fled to the depths of his memory. It was torture to him. He wanted to find this mystery person and cherish the time he was with them. He couldn't though, all because of a measly name. This frustrated the young man to no end.

Slightly enraged, but clearly in control of his emotions, the young prince pushed his chair away from the desk. The chair groaned as it slid across the old wooden floors of the study. The fire in the room cast a warm glow on the books that covered the walls, tinting them a lovely burnt gold. As the prince stood he dug his bare feet into the furs that were scattered about the room, in no particular fashion. The combed fur felt soft underneath his small feet and tickled him when he spread his toes to grip the rug. He shuffled towards the fire, still lost in his thoughts. A measly name was all that was holding him back. He quickly decided names were quite frivolous. They were simply a means to label someone. A quick way to say you know someone when you haven't truly spoken to them. Names, they were something that people used to destroy confusion, but it didn't necessarily mean that they enhanced the way humans interacted with each other. If you truly knew a person you'd be able understand the way they thought and you'd be able to respect their choices, even without a name. You would know what they are, inside and out. But here he was, he knew this person, he loved everything about them, yet all anyone else cared about was their name.

He knelt down next to the fire, letting the heat caress his cheeks. He had been at it for weeks. His search was fruitless though. He had been chosen to compete in a tournament; it was supposed to be for the world's greatest fighters. The prince had been flattered that he had been sent an invitation. He wasn't the most skilled with a sword but he was a brilliant leader and tactician. He had led a rag tag group of fighters to his kingdom and won it back from the allies that had betrayed them. He had met this fighter at the tournament. Their sword was blazing gold and its hilt was pitch black. The prince was in awe at how gracefully the warrior had wielded the immense weapon. The sword's blade was one of the longest he'd ever seen. It had looked heavy and just watching the other fight with it made his arms weak.

He remembered when he first arrived at his lodgings. In the room he was staying in were two full sized beds. They were covered with soft quilts, one red the other blue. He immediately made his way to the bed with the blue quilt. He had set his bag on the bed and began to pull out his belongings. He organized them and separated them into different drawers and shelves. The room had a beautiful mahogany bookcase. The prince let his hand wander to the elaborate designs that had been engraved into the wood. His fingertips followed the intricate swirls to one of the many shelves. He started to fill the empty space with books from home.

Just as he had begun to unfasten his sword from his side the door creaked open. The prince had unsheathed his sword, it was a natural reaction. He had spent so much time being hunted down that it natural for him to assume that his life was being threatened. The person who had opened the door blinked a few times in shock. It was the swordsman with the gold sword.

"My apologies," the young prince said in a soft tone while sheathing his sword. The other still stood there and stared. The prince looked up and met his gaze. They had stayed like that for a while.

"That was quite the welcome," the other man finally spoke in a teasing tone.

"I apologized," the prince mumbled breaking the eye contact.

"Yeah, but still, who'd you think I'd be?" the young man asked with a large smile. "I mean did you think I was going to hurt you?"

"I've had too many close encounters with assassins and hired mercenaries that were sent to… dispose of me. You learn to be cautious," the young prince sighed, pretty much summing up his early teenage years. He then quickly added, "But even if you were sent to get rid of me I assure you I would be fine, seeing as though I'd be able to dispatch you at any given moment."

The room's other occupant stayed silent for a very long time and the prince decided to continue unpacking until the young man drawled out, "Let's start over." The prince put his folded cape on to the bed and looked up at the man. "I'm -, I'm a, um, mercenary," he said and sheepishly smiled. In the prince's memory he couldn't remember what the mercenary had said his name was which was why he was searching for it now.

"So you might actually be here to kill me," the prince stifled a laugh.

"No, no I don't even know who you are, I'm not going to kill you," the mercenary stated while pointing a finger at the prince to.

"My name is Marth, I'm a prince of Altea," the prince said with a soft smile and then rose his hand up. The mercenary hesitantly took Marth's hand and shook it with a weak grip. Marth gave him a questioning look.

"Uh… well, what should I call you? You're royalty, so what title should I use?" the mercenary mumbled.

"Oh, well, you can just drop the formalities and call me Marth, we will be spending an awful lot of time together since we're sharing a room," Marth replied in a bit of shock.

"Okay then Marth, I hope we get along," the young mercenary replied with a lazy grin. And they did get along. Sure, there had been a few bumps in the road but soon the two became inseparable. They eventually became lovers, but in the end were separated after the tournament. They had to travel back to their homelands. They promised to see each other again, but the odds of that ever happening were growing slimmer by the day.

"Sire, Lady Elice has returned and she wishes to speak with you," someonhe said while knocking on the door. Marth snapped out of his thoughts and padded towards the door. His sister had gone to meet a possible suitor and she must've just gotten back. Their parents had been killed during the war and it now fell to Elice to take over as Queen of Altea. She had decided that Marth was still much too young take the responsibility of ruling. He was grateful to her because if he had become king he would have to marry very soon after receiving the crown. He didn't intend to marry someone he didn't love. The only person of he thought of when someone mentioned love was his nameless mercenary.

He opened up the old wooden door and came face to face with Cain. The red haired man smiled lightly and began to walk down the hall. Marth sighed and followed him. He was losing it. He didn't even realize it was Cain who had spoken to him through the door. Cain had been supporting before he even embarked on his journey to reclaim Altea. He was the man who delivered him the news of his father's death. Now he didn't even remember his voice.

"Lady Elice is in here," Cain said over his shoulder.

"Ah, thank you Cain," Marth murmured while stepping towards the door.

"Lord Marth?" the red head suddenly blurted out.

"Y-yes?" Marth asked in slight surprise.

"Lord Marth are you doing well? You seem absent lately; many of us are worried. You've been locking yourself up in the study every day," Cain trailed off.

"I assure you I'm fine, thank you all for your concern. I don't deserve your worry," Marth smiled and spoke softly. "If you would excuse me; I must go speak with my sister now." With that Marth made his way into the room in which his sister resided in. Cain had looked like he had wanted to say something but Marth did not intend to wait and hear it. "Elice, welcome back," Marth called into the room.

"Marth I have wonderful news!" Elice exclaimed. She had stood up from her chair and made her way over to her younger brother. She gently wrapped her arms around Marth in a hug and combed her fingers through his soft hair. "I've found a suitor, he has proposed to me!" Elice smiled and released Marth.

"That's great, how is he? What is he like?" Marth asked. He liked it when his sister was happy. He remembered when she made him leave her behind when Altea was attacked and he promised himself he'd make it up to her.

"He's quite handsome, a fine warrior, only a couple years older than me and he is a very confident man," Elice stated dreamily.

"Will you be married here or in his country?" Marth question as he moved towards the fire warm his hands. "I'd like to meet him as soon as possible."

"We've decided to marry here and he'll be joining us with a couple days' time. My, we have a lot to do, I need a gown, we need to get a guest list, oh and food," Elice rambled. Marth watched as his sister scrambled around the room searching for something to write her to do list on. He really hoped this bloke his sister was engaged to was a decent man. Marth didn't know what he'd do with himself if he didn't get along with his new brother-in-law.

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Pleas Review or favorite! Tell me If I should continue or not! I'm not entirely sure myself yet, but I have a really complex plot in my head... not sure how it'll turn out, but hey worth a shot, right? Thank you for reading! I hope to see you in the next chapter (if there is one)! ~Shiro Mizuki


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